


White Wedding

by GinFlameRebellion



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Future, Celebrity!Rachel, Enemies to Lov— Seriously? Lol there aren't enough words!, F/F, Gonna party like it's 2029, Humor, It's probably all Max's fault, Time Travel, chaseprice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:09:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24575848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GinFlameRebellion/pseuds/GinFlameRebellion
Summary: Chloe scratched her forehead, tried to think. What was that multiverse theory? That if there are an infinite number of universes then there must be one in which a monkey typed out the complete works of Shakespeare? Or one in which Chloe Price became a vegan and married Victoria Chase. She wondered which was statistically the least likely.Chloe wakes up in the AU of her worst nightmares.Her day just goes downhill from there.
Relationships: Rachel Amber/Chloe Price (referenced/minor), Victoria Chase/Chloe Price
Comments: 23
Kudos: 43





	White Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> This fic started life as a Chloe voice exercise I did ages ago just for a bit of fun, but then I became rather fond of it so decided to expand it. Let's see how it goes!

The first thing Chloe noticed about the woman lying next to her was that she was older. Not, like, gross and saggy older, but a kinda slightly-overbaked-but-still-hot older. A still-young-enough-to-brag-about older. Maybe. The woman was lying on her back, snoring gently, and even in the low light Chloe could see the creases in the corners of her eyes, the edges of her mouth slackened by sleep.

She guessed they must have boned because Chloe was butt naked, although the woman was wearing some kind of silky-looking pajama top. And Chloe couldn't help but notice that part of her, two parts of her in fact, were still real perky.

And they were definitely at the other chick's place, because it sure as shit wasn't Chloe's. She lifted her head to look around. Furniture with all sharp angles, a lot of glass and stone. Flowers—living flowers—in a vase and a collection of black and white photographs neatly hung in dark frames. Throw pillows with floral patterns… well… thrown on the floor.

Chloe idly wondered who the woman was. Another confused housewife she'd picked up in a bar? Was her husband about to burst through the door after returning early from his business trip? That could be neat. It wasn't like Chloe was a stranger to waking up in other beds. It was happening more and more these days since she and Rachel... since… yeah. But it was still kinda strange to wake up all warm and peaceful and without any sense of dread or self-loathing, or at the very least a hangover. Weird.

The second thing Chloe noticed about her latest lay, as the woman snorted in her sleep and turned to face her, was how much she looked like Victoria Chase. Like, a lot. Seriously a lot. Like, she could have actually been Icky Vicky's mom if her mom was younger and hotter and…

The third thing Chloe noticed, as she reached over to the bedside table and turned on the lamp was—

_Holy shit._

There was a lot of screaming. Mainly from Victoria. Chloe wasn't really a screamer. That was Rachel's bag. And Chloe mentally beat down on herself for thinking about _that_ now. Because, holy shit. Anyway, this was a different type of screaming. This was terrified screaming. This was Victoria diving off the bed and then poking her eyes over the top of the mattress like a fucking soldier in a trench screaming. That's if it was Victoria. Although, it sure as shit couldn't be anyone else, could it? And she seemed to know Chloe.

"Where are we and what the fuck are you doing here?" Victoria screeched. Yep, definitely her.

At some point Chloe must have jumped from the bed herself. Because now she was standing over by the window with a pillow clasped tightly against her tits and feeling hella fucking naked. "I dunno, dude," she managed. "I have no idea."

"Did you just fucking rape me?"

The fuck? Chloe dug her nails deep into the pillow. Sure, her brain was churning slowly, but the realization that she must have done the nasty with Victoria Chase was starting to soak through her synapses like piss through pants. And that idea itself was bad enough. But being so desperate to bone Vic that she'd done it by force?

"Unlikely," she sneered. And then, before Victoria could come up with any other dumb accusations, "Dude, when did you get so _old_?"

It was Victoria who dashed into the bathroom first, an en-suite just off the bedroom. Got there first because Chloe was trying to run while still clutching that goddamn pillow. The sound Victoria made when she looked in the mirror was straight up bestial and kinda wobbly, like a howling wolf being tossed about by a laundromat. Or something. Because she was Victoria and she was obviously overreacting. She really didn't look that bad. Her hair was longer, face narrower. Looked less puckered, like she wasn’t perma-sucking on a mouthful of sour candies. It suited her. And Chloe mentally beat down on herself even harder for that one. Or at least she would have done if she hadn't clocked herself in the mirror right then. And, yeah, she wasn't fucking nineteen anymore.

Sure, she probably should have really bad feelings about that, but she was actually pretty made up by how well-preserved she was. Okay, her cheeks were a bit hollower and she had this weird little lump under her chin and itty-bitty crow's feet at the corners of her eyes but could've been a lot worse. At least it wasn't Joyce staring back at her. Victoria clearly wasn't so chill. Making little groaning noises and clutching at her face like she was trying to tear it off.

Chloe left her to her wailing and wandered back into the bedroom. Maybe she should be freaking more than she was but Chloe had first-hand experience of what shock does to the human brain. Like the time the police came to tell them her dad was dead and Joyce had spent the whole day cleaning. Joyce had never been big on cleaning the house but on that day she spritzed that sucker from top to bottom like a mofo. Sure, then she stroked out. But at first she was, like, weirdly chill. That's how Chloe felt now. Less freaked out and more kinda energized. Like she was less into losing her shit in the bathroom and more into finding out what the fuck was going on. Plus this whole thing had Caulfield written all over it. And if Chloe had lost over a decade of her life and ended up in bed with Victoria because Max was getting her Time Lord shit on again, then she was straight up gonna… gonna… well, not kill Max exactly. Because it was Max. But maybe give her stink eye or something. For like a month. Without breaks.

The sun was fully up outside now. So wherever they were it was morning. Full-on deduction right there. Chloe picked her way across the throw pillows, trying not to think about how they got thrown, and found a plain black tee and some underwear buried among them. She pulled on the tee, left the panties just in case they weren't hers. They looked like they probably were—black, unassuming and, you know, on the floor—but who could tell for sure and the idea of getting it wrong was just too gross. She looked around for pants. Nada. Yanked open a couple of drawers. Her stomach did a thing—not a good thing—when she saw the pink vibrator. She stopped opening drawers after that. Instead, she found a robe hanging on the back of the bedroom door. There were two of them. One kinda slinky, the other kinda fluffy. Chloe took the bigger one. It was pink, but fuck it.

Then she saw the photo. In a little silver frame on the windowsill. Her and Victoria. Victoria and her. Looking... Holy shit, were they snuggling?

"Well, wherever we are it looks as though I'm married.” Victoria’s voice from the bathroom door. "So, whatever you're doing here, there has clearly been some huge mistake. And we definitely didn't… you know."

Chloe looked around to see Victoria holding up her left hand, waggling a couple of nice pieces on her ring finger. Something in Chloe's stomach suddenly got hella heavy and she glanced down at her hands, praying to every motherfucking god under the sun that she wouldn't see what she knew she was gonna see.

"Yeah," she said at last, her voice croaking like she'd just puffed through a pack of twenty. "You're married alright... To me." She lifted her ring finger. "Samesies."

Victoria didn't take too well to that. Just kinda went all white and feral and kept mouthing "No" over and over. And now she looked old, now she looked hella old, like her eyes just sunk into her skull and her lips shrank away and her face got all sweaty and pale. And Chloe was kinda offended if she was honest. She was the one who'd just found herself in unholy matrimony with Bridezilla's more uptight evil cousin. If anyone should be freaking out it should be her. But then Victoria staggered to her feet and shut herself in the bathroom so at least that was something.

So, where the fuck were they? _When_ the fuck were they? There was a cellphone on the bedside table and it looked kinda neat—all thin and glassy and shit. So this really was the future, huh? The time and date were displayed on the black screen. 07.39 am Sat, Jun 9. Well, at least it was the weekend. No year, though. Chloe picked up the phone but there were no buttons on it. Not one. It was just a thin pane of black glass. Fuck's sake. She prodded it a bit, turned it upside down, shook it. Still nothing. Threw it down on the bed. Caulfield, whatever the fuck you've done you better undo it now or so help me God...

In the end it was a plain old paper calendar that told them. A calendar with little squares for each day and Chloe’s handwriting scrawled all over it, pinned up above the Chaise Longue because, yes, apparently they had one of them. They. Was this really their house? Gross. Chloe wasn’t exactly surprised to find she had a paper calendar. She called Victoria over and expected her to make some bitchy comment about it being retro but instead Vic just emerged from the bathroom and stood there next to Chloe with her eyes wide and her mouth open in some weird little 'o' like she was about to faint.

“2029? How? What?”

Chloe had to remind herself that Victoria didn’t know about Max and her time powers. Okay, so Chloe herself didn’t know a _lot_ about them. And she sure as fuck didn’t realize they could do _this_. But at least it was some kind of explanation to cling to. Yeah, without an explanation this must seem like some pretty messed up shit. She debated whether to say something, or just continue watching the look in Vic’s eyes, like her brain was melting and bleeding through into her eyeballs. Like that dude in Indiana Jones when he opens that ark thingy. It was kinda funny.

“So how old are we?” Victoria asked. It came out more of a squeak.

“Well, I guess... I’m thirty-five and you’re thirty-four.”

“Thirty-four?” She was sounding kinda angry now. Like the joke was over and it really wasn’t that funny.

“Dude, chill. You don't look that bad.”

“Well, obviously _I_ don't look that bad!” Victoria shot a glare at Chloe and suddenly there she was, all eighteen and Queen Bitch and every inch Victoria again. “You, on the other hand.”

“Hey!”

“Oh, please. You always looked awful.” And then she gave this full-on groan and, yeah, stamped her foot. “But thirty-four is practically dead!”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Yeah? And I just woke up married to you. So are we really gonna argue about who's having a shittier day?”

The air in the room was suffocating and Chloe needed out of there. Not least because she was kinda interested in what the rest of the house was like. Just in passing. She yanked open the bedroom door and stepped out onto the landing. It wasn’t big, a few white wooden doors leading off here and there. More photos on the walls. She didn’t look at them. Victoria did, though. Padded out of the bedroom close behind Chloe like they were actually in this together or something and started looking over all the pictures on the walls. “I let you marry me wearing pants?" She asked. "God, you could have at least worn a dress!”

And Chloe was about to remind her about priorities and, you know, not giving a fuck, when she noticed the door ajar at the end of the landing.

It was the little bed she saw first as she pushed the door open fully. Like, a really little bed. A really little pink bed. Covered in plushies. And her mind started doing that thing where it grasps at straws. Tiny straws. Infinitesimally small straws invisible to the naked eye. Because this was Victoria’s room, right? She could totally see Vic in a pink bedroom surrounded by unicorn plushies and—

“Why is there a child in these pictures?” Victoria asked, peering at more of the photos. And Chloe may have started to freak then. Just a little. Just so she felt her jaw suddenly go really tight and her chest contract and everything inside her suddenly start to drip cold, like Frosty the Snowman had taken up residence in her stomach and was picking out the curtains.

“Mommy!”

It was like they realized together. Realized before they even heard that tiny voice chiming out from another door on the landing. Had time to just shoot each other the quickest glance. Probably the same kinda glance that antelopes sling at each other when they first hear the lion in the grass. Only with more fear.

“What...is that?” Victoria hissed.

“Mommy!”

“I—,” was all Chloe managed.

“MOMMY!”

Chloe took a breath, pushed open the door that led to the voice. Immediately regretted that breath because, the smell. Oh fuck, the _smell_. It was coming from a bathroom. Kinda fancy, all tiny stone tiles and—ooh—a rainforest shower. Nice. Hella nice. Apart from the kid on the toilet bowl. Not so much on the toilet bowl as in it, sorta sunk so deep her knees were up around her ears and her legs were just dangling there in space. The fuck knew how old she was. Not very. She seemed pleased to see them, though. Gave them this really smug, self-satisfied smile. Like a little gnome basking in her own fetid shit cloud.

“Mommy, I've done a poop!”

“Well, you're dealing with that,” Victoria snapped at Chloe without even giving herself time to be surprised. It was impressive even by her standards.

“Me?”

“Yes, you. Don't tell me you've never cleaned up shit before.” Chloe narrowed her eyes. What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

“Mommy!!” The kid was looking confused now. And impatient. Mainly just impatient.

Chloe grabbed Victoria’s arm and dragged her back out onto the landing. “So, which one of us do you think is Mommy?” she whispered. The kid was blonde, prissy-looking. She’d put money on Chase.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it can't be both of us, can it? I mean, not biologically. Unless science has really come on since 2013.”

Victoria shook herself free. “Well, it's not me. Having a child is clearly the kind of ridiculous scheme you would come up with since obviously you craved conversation on your own level.” She gave a haughty sniff. “You think I would give birth?”

“To a human? No.”

“Mommy!!!!”

Okay, so the kid was kinda freaking now and Chloe wasn’t sure she liked that. She put her sleeve to her nose and stepped back into the bathroom. “Uh… Yo, kid.”

“I've been waiting AGES!” the kid growled, slapping the toilet seat with both tiny palms.

Chloe turned back to Victoria with a smirk. “Well, I guess that settles the maternity question.” Victoria just glared, arms folded. Chloe turned back to the small fry. “So..uh...which one of us usually… You know. Cleans you up?”

“Don’t we have a nanny?” Victoria asked suddenly. "Or a maid or something?"

“A maid? Seriously?”

“What's a maid?” the kid asked, kinda chill again, still dangling her feet. Chloe wondered if she should just, like, pluck her out of there, or—

Victoria was out on the landing, opening and slamming doors. “Wait, are we... are we poor?” she yelled. “Is this the whole house?”

Poor? The fuck? Chloe had only seen a bathroom this nice that one time when Rachel stole her dad's credit card and took her over to Portland to stay in some fancy-ass hotel with bathrobes and room service and little chocolates on the pillows and, oh yeah, that had been a good bathroom…

At least Victoria was still there to pour cold water on that memory. “Oh, now I _know_ this is all your fault!” she was yelling. “Did you find a magic amulet or something? Is this, like, your weird little destitute lesbian drag-her-down-with-me fantasy?”

“Yes, Victoria. That's exactly what this is. And just so you know, for later, I also like to use bacon grease as lube.”

“Mommy!” the kid yelled. Shit, did Chloe just say that in front of the kid? “Stop fighting with Chloe.”

A roar of victory shot from Chloe’s throat as Victoria’s face went from puce to ashen. Not a surprise, exactly, but sweet vindication. “So, that settles it. You sort your”—Chloe waved vaguely towards the kid—“mini-me. I'm gonna go for a smoke.”

***

There was a leather jacket hanging by the front door that looked like it was probably Chloe's. She checked the pockets for smokes but there was nothing but a grocery receipt and some small change. She checked the pockets of the other coats too. Nothing. So she didn't smoke in this reality? Fucking figured. No smokes and almost certainly no weed. She groaned as she pulled open the front door and stepped outside. This was seriously the lamest alternate reality ever.

Turned out they didn't live in Arcadia Bay. Or if they did this wasn't a neighborhood that Chloe recognized, and she was pretty sure she'd been stuck in the Bay long enough to recognize all of them. The street was wide, leafy. Picket fence central. Okay, so a butterfly flapping its wings could cause a tornado, but it would have to be one ginormous motherfucking butterfly to flap hard enough to make this happen. Married to Victoria? With a kid? Living on some suburban street straight out of Desperate Housewives? She half expected a paperboy to come trundling past on his BMX whistling a jaunty tune. The fuck, Max?

At least they had pretty sweet wheels. The truck was one of the first things she saw as she stepped outside, all big and blocky with hella cool headlamps stretched across the whole front where the grill would usually be. It was plugged in so, hey, electric. Still, it would be cool to take it for a spin later, if they got all this other shit sorted. Which had to come first. Obviously.

She was running a hand across the paneling, checking out the truck bed when someone called out to her: "Howdy, Chloe!"

She turned to see some guy waving at her. He was waddling up the path of the house next door, clutching two bags of groceries in his arms. A fat fucker. Round, like a ball in a beach shirt. His eyes flicked up and down, checking her out. Fucking perv. Although she was still in a fluffy pink robe. Maybe people usually got dressed around here.

"Yo...um...neighbor dude."

His look suggested that wasn't how she usually greeted him. "What a wonderful morning!" he said anyway.

Shit, did he want to talk?

"Yeah, it's...great."

"How's little Macie?"

Macie? Who the fuck was Macie? Oh, the kid. The kid she had just left inside with Victoria. Well, she was probably okay. "Macie? Yeah...good. She and Victoria are just inside... um... bonding."

The dude fucking chuckled. "Ah, your beautiful wife. I bet you never get sick of calling her that."

Chloe's stomach contracted and twisted and wrung out all its bile into Chloe's throat.

"Yes," she coughed. "Victoria. My w—. My wi— It's. Great." She managed the wannest of wan smiles. And then, because she was desperate and it was worth a try, "Hey, do you have any smokes?"

He jiggled the bags in his arms as though they had suddenly gotten hella heavy and his brow got all creased in the middle. "Uh, no. Chloe, I haven't smoked since I was a teenager. I didn't know you did."

Judgemental ass.

"Oh, I...um...don't," she said, flicking her hand, all care-free and breezy, just like she’d seen Rachel do a million times. Fuck, that felt weird. "Obviously. Just wanted one to show... uh... Macie. So she could be sure to stay away from that shit, you know?"

He winced at the word shit. "Right. Okay."

He was shifting from foot to foot now. Like, so desperate to leave but too polite to, and for the briefest moment, she wanted to keep him there, just pin him and confuse the balls off him because she could. But fuck it, she had stuff to do. Like find out how to get home. And make sure that kid was still breathing.

"Right, so, it's been real. I'm just gonna go back... in there." She waved vaguely towards the house. And then she had a thought. Just a thought in passing. A nothing, useless thought that just seemed to slip into her brain on its own. But things were so fucked up here that, hey, it might be worth a shot. "Because I think our friend Rachel might be coming today. I guess you must have seen her around here? Coming to visit? Maybe?"

"Rachel Amber?"

Score!

"Yeah, that's her."

He dropped his shoulders then, face went all red and shiny with this weird-ass smile. "Rachel Amber's coming to visit you today?" Okay, so Chloe was sorta used to this reaction when she mentioned Rach, but this guy was extra freaky. Like, practically salivating. "Oh, boy! Rachel Amber on our little street? Well, now that would be swell! I know you said you went to high school with her but I never imagined she'd ever be here!"

So, this was weird. "Yeah, me and her… we…" Boned? A lot? Shut up, brain! "We were tight."

"Oh wow! Well, it would be great to maybe get a picture or something? You think that would be possible?"

"Yeah, sure, dude. No sweat." And she ran back into the house.

***

Victoria was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, arms folded. She'd gotten dressed at least and her tastes in old age clearly hadn't changed that much. She was wearing a cardigan. "Don't fucking leave me like that again," she snapped.

Chloe closed the door, brushed past Victoria into the living room. "What? With your own kid?"

The living room was like the bedroom. Pale, sharp edges. Like Victoria. Like Chloe too if she was honest. It didn't look bad. "Where is she, anyway? You didn't kill her already did you?"

"No. She's upstairs."

"Still stuck down the toilet bowl?"

"In her bedroom."

"Her name's Macie," Chloe said, throwing herself down onto the sofa. "You named your kid after a fucking department store. Unsurprisingly."

"Our kid," Victoria huffed, grabbing a photograph from the sideboard and tossing it at Chloe.

It was a photo of the two of them with huge disgusting smiles on their faces. Something tiny and pink and wobbly that looked like a blob of strawberry pudding wrapped in a blanket was wedged in between them. The kid. All new to the world. Chloe thought of Rachel then and... nah... she didn't like that. She shuddered, put the photo face down on the coffee table. "Oh, and I think Rachel might be some kind of celebrity here."

"What?"

“Straight up. The neighbor dude looked like he was about to jizz his pants when I mentioned her.”

Victoria’s top lip curled in disgust and she lowered herself onto the sofa. Perched on the edge with her head in her hands. “Do you think this is Hell?”

"Dunno," Chloe said, stroking the arm of the sofa. "In Hell do they have cozy leather sofas? And you should see our truck!"

Victoria glared up at her. "Oh my God, you're enjoying this!"

She wasn’t. Not really. But, fuck it, she did want to take a ride in that truck. And maybe try a rainforest shower. “Really, dude, I'm not. I'm just...looking on the bright side."

“The bright side? You? Miss Look-at-me-I'm-sadder-than-Kim-Kardashian-in-a-thrift-store?”

“I'm not sad, I'm badass!”

“Oh, please!”

Chloe had kinda forgotten about the kid. Kind of forgotten until she came barreling into the living room, put her tiny, sticky hands on Chloe’s knees and started jumping up and down like she was high or something. “Chloeee! Can I have my breakfast?”

And at that Chloe’s ears pricked, because she knew she was forgetting something and, oh dude, food might actually make this nightmare bearable. They must have awesome food in this place. “I'll get this one,” she said to Victoria, who just glared. “Right, Kid, let’s chow down.”

“Yey!” The kid let go of Chloe's knees and was suddenly gone, sprinting out through the door.

Victoria was still glaring. “Oh, now you’re being helpful, when there’s food involved.”

“Obviously.”

“Ugh, you’re so unevolved. Like some fucking animal.”

Chloe stood up on the sofa before leaping over the armrest. Flashed Victoria her most predatory grin and, given she was still wearing a robe with no underwear, who knows what else. “Bite me.”

***

The kitchen was much like the rest of the house—more sharp angles, more stone. There was a big table with a vase of—again, living—flowers in the center and the tabletop was made all completely of glass. Yeah, better not invite Rachel to dinner. Not that she would come to dinner here. Being a celebrity and all. If that’s what she was—

“Chloee!” The kid was bouncing up and down next to one of the biggest refrigerators Chloe had ever seen. Steel-gray, two-door, munchie heaven, and—wow—was that a touch-screen?

“Hey, Victoria!” she yelled back into the living room. “We have a touch-screen ice-dispenser!” And then she immediately wondered why the fuck she’d just yelled that. To Victoria. Of all people. Like Victoria had never seen an ice-dispenser. Bitch was so fucking cold she probably had an internal one. Press the right button and she dispensed ice from her—

“Chloeeeeee! Can I sit up here?”

Chloe looked down. The kid was banging on one of the counters, so Chloe hauled her up and plopped her down on it. Surprisingly heavy. “So, what do you have for breakfast, Kid?”

“Why are you calling me Kid?” the kid asked, all innocent. Her face was tilted up to Chloe, hands under her thighs. Kicking her tiny legs in the air.

“Uh… What do I usually call you?”

“Angel Pie.”

Chloe snorted. "As if! Liar.”

The kid grinned, all tiny rows of teeth that were way too small for her gums and continued in her sing-song voice, “I’m not Liar. I’m Angel Pie.”

“Yeah. Whatever. Now you’re Kid. So how about breakfast? Bacon?”

“We only eat bacon at Grandma’s house,” the kid said, leaning forward and putting a finger to her lips. “And we don’t tell Mommy!”

So, Joyce was Grandma here? She’d be fucking ecstatic about that. And apparently a bacon pusher behind Victoria’s back. Well, that was kinda cool. “Do you like Grandma?” Chloe asked, not really knowing why.

“Grandma’s awesome!” the kid said and then suddenly, like that, like a rock settling in her chest, Chloe really, really wanted to go visit Grandma.

“So, no bacon,” she said to distract herself, pulling open the fridge and bathing in its glorious light. “What do I usually make you?”

“Granola with mashed up banana.”

“Really? Huh. That’s what my dad used to make for me,” Chloe said, searching the door for milk. Why was there no milk? And then the question popped into her head so she had to ask it, even though she kinda knew it was useless. “Does Grandma, like, have a Grandpa? I mean, do you have a Grandpa?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s his name?”

“Grandpa.”

“No, I mean… His name, like, I’m Chloe, you’re Macie.”

“Grandpa?”

“Fuck’s sake, Kid. Does he have a mustache?”

“Yeah! It’s tickly!” and the kid dissolved into laughter when she said tickly and Chloe had to look away then. It was a dumb thing to ask anyway. Where was that fucking milk? She scanned the shelves in turn. How come he was Grandpa and she was just plain Chloe? Oat milk. Was that her choice or Victoria's? Coconut milk. Why was she even thinking about this? Fucking almond milk…

And right then Chloe froze, and Frosty was back in her stomach, was finished with his goddamn curtains and had settled down to watch Jeopardy and order take-out.

Oh no… Oh God, no...

Victoria came in then, came and stood far too close, thumping one hand down on the counter. “Listen,” she was saying, although Chloe barely heard through the drumming in her ears. “We need to work out what’s going on, there needs to be an explanation for all this.”

“There’s nothing to work out,” Chloe said, eyes still scanning the contents of the fridge. “You were right, we’re in Hell.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think we’re vegans.”

**Author's Note:**

> To all vegans: I love you, you are on the right side of history, but no way can I imagine 2013 Chloe ditching her diner food! 
> 
> Intending this one to clock in at 4 chapters. No specific timeline for when they'll be released. Usually takes me a few weeks in between updates due to stuff.
> 
> Thanks so much to Stretch802 and Scorpion_Queen for the encouragement with this one—you guys are awesome!
> 
> Next up: Is Rachel really a celebrity? Where the hell is Max, and is this really all her doing? And ffs is there any weed in this goddamn house? 
> 
> The idea for this story came from from reading the BtVS fic _unorphaned (in our northern lights)_ by morningsound15. So if you like Buffy/Faith then definitely check that one out, too. Strong recommend. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
